


Demons from the Past

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [47]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya has no idea what he's done to make Renji so morose.  Just when he's about to get to the heart of it, when a ghost from Renji's past comes knocking at the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons from the Past

Byakuya began to wonder if he could ever truly satisfy Renji.

As they walked through the Precipice World, Byakuya tried to decide what exactly he’d done to deserve this sullen, sulking companion. Renji tromped along beside him, scowling fiercely, wearing what Byakuya referred to as his ‘thinking face.’ It was not a good look. Renji’s forehead tattoos did him no favors, making the frown fierce and animalistic. In the eerie light of the space between the worlds, his hair took on the color of spilled blood. He’d pulled it into its usual topknot after dumping the gigai, so it looked like a spiky crown. 

In fact, earlier, the way Renji had snarlingly twisted it back had felt like some kind of sign to Byakuya—a symbol of a coming fight.

Ironically, Byakuya could finally effectively read Renji’s mood. Yet, somehow, he still felt at a disadvantage, as he had no idea what he’d done to provoke it.

They’d stayed at the fetish club an hour or more, mostly at Yoruichi and Urahara’s insistence, and now Byakuya was thinking that that must have been a misstep on his part somehow. In retrospect, he was certain he should have attempted to dance with Renji, because, while Renji often played at being cool and laidback about such things, they always, ultimately, mattered a great deal. 

Maybe Byakuya should have also suggested another trip to a ‘love hotel’? The shows at the club had, after all, sparked a multitude of ideas and desires; it would have been no hardship. In fact, he’d sort of assumed that a to be part of Renji’s agenda. Perhaps this time, Renji was expecting Byakuya to make the move? 

To be perfectly honest, Byakuya hadn’t suggested it because he was uncertain about engaging in such activities so close on the heels of the class they’d mostly skipped. In fact, there suddenly loomed a certain amount of pressure to perform, to do things ‘right.’ The sheer volume of the options that Renji’s questionnaire offered had been a little too much to process as well. So Byakuya had been planning on a night off, some time to have instead, a quiet moment to reconnect on a more personal level, to, as Renji would put it, ‘cuddle.’

But now Renji was snarling like a pit bull.

And Byakuya wasn’t sure how close he could get without being bitten or snapped at.

Could this man ever be as simple as he purported to be?

Finally, they passed through the final gate onto the grounds of the estate. The senkaimon guard bowed deeply at their arrival, and, as usual, Renji looked a little jumpy about receiving the same deference simply by virtue of standing so close to Byakuya. Eishirō was there to greet them as well with a bow and a, “My lord?”

Renji looked ready to make his excuses and flee so Byakuya decided that what was needed was a swift, executive decision. To the house steward, he said, “The lieutenant is staying the night. Bring tea to the master suite and see that someone turns the coals in the irori. The rain from the Human World has chilled us. Be sure the sitting room is comfortable, we will be up for quite a while talking.”

“Yes, my lord,” Eishirō said with a bow. 

Renji’s protest bubbled up and was choked down with a kind of grunting sigh.

Confidant that Renji would dutifully follow, Byakuya headed inside. “Because we will, Renji,” Byakuya told him seriously, with a glance over his shoulder, “ _Talk._ You _will_ tell me what has you so bothered.”

Renji let out a little whine. “But it’s stupid. I’m just being stupid.”

“Then we can laugh about it together,” Byakuya insisted. 

A little defeated sigh, “Hai, Taicho.”

#

Byakuya stripped down to the white shitage and hakama and now stood in front of his armoire, considering his choices in sleepwear. He’d hung up the haori and removed the kenseikan. Both it and the tekku had been put away into their respective boxes.

Renji leaned against the door frame in his tattered cherry blossom robe. He’d twisted his crimson hair into a sloppy braid, but Byakuya was glad to see it. A braid meant Renji had consented to staying the night. Even better, the scowl had faded to something pinched, but not nearly as hostile. With a yawn, Renji remarked, “This is the advantage of owning jack squat. I never have to decide what I’m going to wear.”

Byakuya glanced over at the kimono that had been laid out for him, “Technically, neither do I.”

“And yet you never like what Eishirō picks out.”

“If it were up to my house steward, I would only ever sport the Kuchiki colors emblazoned with my family’s crest. There are times when I prefer dancing chickens.”

“Huh?”

Byakuya held up the kimono to show Renji. Byakuya suspected they were meant to be quail, but the dyed fabric was far from realistic and the fat, stylized birds could be anything, really. But, Byakuya always imagined them as happy little brown and yellow chickens cavorting along the backside of the bronze-colored robe and up the billowing sleeves. It was a sentimental favorite and brought to mind a nursery rhyme his mother had sung.

“Holy crap,” Renji said in a kind of appreciative amazement. “That is… wow. What are those even supposed to…? Chickens, you say?”

“Dancing chickens and I rather like them,” Byakuya admitted. Setting the kimono aside, he untied and unwound the obi that held up his hakama. “I think they’re cute.”

“Well…uh, sure,” Renji said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess they’re… something all right. They could be cute.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Renji Abarai,” Byakuya said fondly. He craned his ear in the direction of the sitting room. It sounded as though the servants had finished there. He quickly undressed and shouldered into the chicken kimono. “Take tea with me.”

“Right,” Renji said with a nod and a sigh. “I was kind of hoping you’d forget all that.”

“No such luck,” Byakuya said, though he couldn’t quite suppress a sympathetic smile, and he squeezed Renji’s hand lightly as he passed him to go into the sitting room. 

Pillows had been laid out around the sunken hearth. Byakuya lowered himself onto a cushion near the tea table, which had been placed a comfortable distance from the fire pit. Embers glowed warmly, casting the room in a golden glow. 

Renji thumped down opposite him, with the resigned expression of a troublesome schoolboy brought before the headmaster. 

“Really?” Byakuya pursed his lips at Renji, as he poured the tea into their bowls. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s just dumb and I don’t really want to talk about it, okay?”

“Unacceptable,” Byakuya snapped, barely holding back a sudden flash of frustration. Did Renji not realize or appreciate just how _hard_ Byakuya had been working this evening? He’d managed to rein in his temper at the restaurant despite the insults Renji had hurled at him, and, in point of fact, had put aside all of his pride to listen intently to Renji’s concerns. He’d even made a good faith effort to appease Renji, and had been more than willing to debase himself in a public alley to make things right between them. And he’d assumed they’d come to an acceptable compromise in the storage shed, even though, it meant, no doubt, that pervert Urahara had the equivalent of Gotei Thirteen sex tape in his possession that could bring both their careers crashing down in an avalanche of scandal. And, yet, somehow none of this had been enough for Renji. “I’ve had it with your foolishness. Tell me. Right now.”

“Jeez, chill out, will you? You’re making it harder,” Renji said, as a bright flush colored his cheeks. He tugged on his ear, “Look, okay, it’s like this. I’ve been… I wonder, you know, do you see yourself as more gay or straight?”

Byakuya’s mouth hung open. Why on earth did such a thing matter?

“See, I said it was stupid,” Renji grumbled, crossing his arms and staring out the darkened window.

Byakuya was still flabbergasted. “I don’t even think in those terms, Renji.”

“I know,” Renji said with a sigh. He picked up the tea bowl and scowled at the contents. “But… well… could you?”

So it _was_ important. “Very well,” Byakuya gathered his thoughts for a moment. If this was what had been bothering Renji, he supposed he ought to make a good faith attempt at an answer. After taking a sip of tea, Byakuya said, “I’ve had many lovers. Some were men and some were women. I’ve loved each with equal passion and commitment. I can’t say for certain that I’m one thing or the other. Perhaps I’m both. What about you?”

“Me?” Renji seemed surprised to be asked the question in turn. “I guess I’m not all that picky about sex. Probably, if I counted it out, there’d be more guys on the list, but I blame my former regiment for that. Girls get mighty freaked when a big bruiser from the Eleventh seems interested, you know?” Turning the tea bowl around in his hands, Renji shook his head at some memory, but then said, “But... uh, thing is, I’ve had lots of sex, but I’ve only been in love twice in my whole life.” He glanced up then, “And, just to be clear, I never even kissed Rukia. Not once. So I guess you’re the only lover I’ve ever loved, you know what I’m saying?”

Byakuya understood the concept, but he couldn’t exactly relate. He simply hadn’t had many casual affairs. Nearly all of his involvements had required courting to some extent and with that had come at least a minimal emotional attachment. More importantly, he’d been spoken for, for well over a decade. 

After a sip of the tea, Byakuya made a stab at the underlying issue, “You’re jealous of my dead wife? You really are a fool.”

Renji looked hurt. And, before Byakuya could explain that he meant that in a loving, teasing way, there was a commotion in the hall. Byakuya could hear Eishirō shouting, “You can’t go in there, sir! Those are _private > quarters!”_

Renji was already rising to his feet. He grabbed Zabimaru on the way to the door. Sliding it open only enough to squeeze through, he shut it behind him with a slam and a, “Oi, what the hell is going on out here?!”

It was clear that Renji, for all his faults, was protecting Byakuya’s personal dignity. Byakuya would not squander the gift. He rose immediately and made a short flash step to the dressing room. 

#

Renji was startled to see the Seventh Seat, Yuu Kinjo, bleeding onto the Kuchiki tatami. His shihakushô in tatters, the silk more ripped than cut. 

“Renji, thank god!” he said, in his perpetually scratchy voice. Kinjo seemed to take a moment to note Renji’s state of undress before plowing on, “Our patrol was ambushed in the Rukongai, sir. Fujimoto is dead.”

“What?!” Renji said, his heart hammering in his throat, remembering a shy but talented Eleventh Seat with wide green eyes and a gentle laugh. He’d been planning to promote her before heading off on assignment. “What happened? Hollow?”

“No, sir, that’s why I’ve been trying to find you! It was a gang of Rukongai rats. We caught a couple of the bastards. One of the pricks thinks he’s being clever. Claims he’s an Abarai. Says he’s your brother: Seichi.”

_Seichi_.

Holy fuck. 

There was a name Renji hadn’t heard in a long, long time. He sucked in a breath. “Where are you keeping him?” 

Kinjo blinked. “So, wait… he really is your brother?”

“What’s this?” Byakuya’s voice was a deep, sharp note behind Renji’s shoulder. “What’s happened?”

Renji turned around to explain, but before he could even open his mouth, Kinjo snapped to attention and then bowed, “Sir! Sorry to barge in like this, Captain, but Eleventh Seat Fujimoto was killed in an ambush in the Rukongai. One of the guys we nabbed is the lieutenant’s brother, Seichi Abarai.”

“Brother?” Byakuya turned to gape at Renji, “Is this true?”

“Seichi was part of the Abarai gang, so, technically, yes, he could call himself that,” Renji said with a sigh. He was relieved to see that Byakuya had taken the opportunity to dress. He was in full uniform, though he hadn’t bothered to put on the kenseikan or those funky gloves. “But, I haven’t heard from him in over seventy years. I thought he was still in prison.”

“I see,” Byakuya said quietly. “But, you’re saying he legitimately carries your name.”

“I guess I can’t deny that,” Renji said, though he kind of wished he could. Seichi had been nothing but trouble from the start. “He has as much right to be called Abarai as I do. But he don’t deserve the name if he killed one of mine.”

Byakuya looked over Renji’s shoulder to Kinjo. “Were there witnesses that saw this Abarai murder Fujimoto?”

Renji turned in time to see Kinjo hemming a little while shaking his head in frustration. “No… not exactly. It was dark and chaotic. But, goddamn it, it was an unprovoked attack, sir! The fucking little Rukongai rats came out of nowhere. Should have killed them all and hung their bodies on the wall as a warning.”

Renji nodded absently. It was kind of a wonder Kinjo hadn’t. But, that kind of retribution wasn’t Byakuya’s policy, and Kinjo was a good enough soldier to know that.

Byakuya suddenly seemed to notice Kinjo’s injuries. “Get yourself to the Fourth Division, Seventh Seat. You’ve discharged your duty. We’ll take things from here.”

Kinjo shot a glance at Renji, started to open his mouth, but snapped it shut with a “Yes, sir!”

Renji watched Kinjo leave with a few more meaningful glares tossed in Renji’s direction. “Shit,” Renji said more to himself than anyone else, “I’m going to have to execute Seichi myself. With this business with Rukia, we can’t exactly go lenient on the guy. Not that I want to. Fujimoto was a good kid. I should fucking strangle Seichi with my own hands.”

“You don’t know the extent to which your brother was involved,” Byakuya said. “If he participated in this attack, but didn’t kill her, there’s no need for a public execution. He could return to prison.”

“Yeah, but even if he was just walking by innocently, nobody’s going to buy it. They’re going to think I’m protecting his loser ass.”

“Regardless, I would like to see him.”

Renji’s eyebrow quirked skeptically; what was this about? Renji wasn’t sure he wanted to ever see Seichi. It might be smarter, in fact, to just walk away and let the wheels of justice do their thing, even if it meant running Seichi over. “You know he ain’t actually blood to me, right?”

“It’s a rare opportunity nonetheless.”

Renji shook his head, “You’re not going to be impressed. Let me get dressed and we can go together.”

#

It was a distinctly uncomfortable sort of déjà vu to enter the guard house and find an old friend sitting behind bars. It got even stranger when, at the sight of Renji, Seichi’s soft brown eyes widened and a huge grin split his face, “Holy shit, man! What did you do to your face? Crazy-ass eyebrows, dude!”

Seichi was rail thin and much smaller and youthful-looking than Renji thought he would be after all this time. It was like he hadn’t grown much in the intervening years. Seichi couldn’t be taller than Yumichika, though Renji figured Yumichika would despise the comparison since, quite frankly, Seichi looked like shit. He wore a tattered grayish linen kimono that was little more than a dirty rag and his light brown hair was a shambles. It fell in matted wavy clumps to his shoulders, and he held it back from his face with a collection of knotted cloth bands. His face was bruised and cut, no doubt from the beating he’d taken on the way in.

But he was smiling at Renji like nothing had changed.

“Seriously, though, looking good, there, guy,” Seichi was saying, coming over to stand next to the bars. His wrists looked weak and breakable where the manacles held them. His knuckles were swollen and bruised, though. So he _had_ fought. He continued to smile at Renji, “You grew up some, eh? Jeez, look at you. You’re fucking gigantic, Renji. Damn.”

Renji was stunned, uncertain how to react. During the entire walk to the guardhouse with Byakuya, Renji had steeled himself to face the hollow remains of the friend he’d once had. He’d expected to find a hardened criminal, someone broken by years of prison and hard labor. In fact, he thought he might not recognize Seichi at all. But this… _kid_ … he was just like the one he remembered all those years ago—a little older perhaps, but still bright-eyed and scrappy. 

Seichi was watching him, his voice starting to falter. “Renji? You’re creeping me out. Say something.”

“Did you attack my patrol tonight? Did you kill Fujimoto?”

Seichi’s laugh was thin. “‘Your’ patrol? What, you captain or something now?”

“Vice-captain,” Renji said. “And don’t act surprised, Seichi. You know full well that the only reason you’re still alive is because we share a name--or you wouldn’t have been shouting it to my guys when they brought you in.”

Seichi’s eyes slid over to the door where Byakuya stood a polite distance away, near the huge double doors. “Oh,” he said, his gaze taking in the guarsd nearby as well, with their armbands marking them as Sixth Division. He turned his body slightly, and his voice dropped to a near whisper, “I get it. The masters have their dog under a tight watch.”

Renji opened his mouth to snarl, but Seichi tapped twice meaningfully on the wooden manacles, drawing Renji’s gaze. Seichi’s fingers spelled out hand cant that meant: _We’ll talk once you lose your tail_.

Renji’s face flushed. “Seichi,” Renji growled out the warning tone between clenched teeth. “I don’t think you get it. One of my people is dead. You’re in serious shit. If you had any part in Fujimoto’s murder, you’re fucked.”

Behind him, Renji could sense Byakuya moving toward them. Of course, the captain would feel compelled to intercede now of all times. He must have overheard the dog comment and was worried about Renji’s temper. “Renji, stand down,” Byakuya ordered. “There’s no need for you to interrogate your brother.”

“Sir,” Renji nodded curtly. He tried not to let shame clench his gut at having his chain so obviously yanked by Byakuya. Taking a literal step back, Renji sucked in a breath to steady his raging emotions. Held tight against his body where there was no chance of being overseen, Renji’s fingers signed: _Play it smart. Show this one respect._

Seichi flashed the returning gesture, ‘ _message received_ ,’ and gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. 

Renji wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Demonstrating knowledge of hand cant was, in itself, a punishable crime. To keep the impulse in check, Renji folded his arms in front of his chest, pressing his hands against his ribs, and stared hard at the floor. 

Goddamn Seichi for being so much like he used to be. As much as Renji hated himself for it, he’d been secretly grateful for an opportunity to demonstrate his unwavering loyalty to the Gotei Thirteen and the laws of the Soul Society. Here, in its own sick way, had been a chance to publicly make up for Rukia. If Seichi had just been an asshole with no conscience, full of nothing but spit and venom for shinigami and the law, Renji could have closed off his heart and watched him die, let Seichi’s blood wash away Renji’s sins. 

But, fuck if he wasn’t conflicted now.

This was going to be much, much harder than he’d hoped.

Byakuya stood in front of the cell and considered Seichi with his cool, impassive face. “There is a certain family resemblance,” Byakuya noted.

Renji snorted. Nice dig, Taicho. After all, the only way in which they were vaguely similar was in background and attitude. But, Seichi took Renji’s warning seriously and backed away from the bars with a deep bow. In fact, he planted himself in the middle of the cell floor on his knees and pressed his head to the floor.

Renji’s fingers itched to sign, _You’re overplaying the con_.

Except, Byakuya seemed impressed. Nobles were always easy marks for a flattery play. “Yet this one is not at all what I expected,” Byakuya said to Renji. “He hardly looks capable of his supposed crimes.”

“Don’t let size fool you, sir,” Renji said. “Inuzuri sharpens all knives.”

“Indeed. I will endeavor never to underestimate any Abarai,” Byakuya said with a private smile. “However, I should be curious to know exactly how such a one overwhelmed our Seventh Seat and murdered our Eleventh. Surely a single one of our soldiers with an ausachi should be capable of defeating an unarmed man from the Rukongai. How could an entire squad, many with named zanpakutō, be laid so low?”

It was a decent question. It wasn’t like Renji didn’t train his people for all combat situations. Still, in the past, Renji had been on enough of these sorts of raids to imagine the scene. There had probably been a whole mob of them and, despite training, certain soldiers could easily be caught out by hesitation and lack of intent because some had a hard time raising a weapon to their fellow human beings--especially starving, ragged ones. Still, his people should have made a better showing. Byakuya was right.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of questions,” Renji agreed. “Like what was someone from the Seventy Eighth District doing anywhere close to the areas our people patrol?”

“Yes, and what provoked the ambush?” Byakuya nodded. “It seems a full investigation is required. But, given the circumstances, I must insist we turn the matter over to the Second.”

Renji tried not to wince. Still, it wasn’t like Seichi had never been the Punishment Squad’s guest before. Renji glanced into the cell in time to catch Seichi coming up from the bow, and his fingers against his thigh making a frantic gesture: _Don’t let me go down. The revolution will fail._

Revolution?

Ah, fuck.


End file.
